December 8, 2005

Earlier this week, I was in the “Bay Area” of California. Coming from the East Coast, my body clocks woke me up at 4:30 a.m. Knowing that I had to begin the adjustment process, I forced myself to remain horizontal for another hour or so.

By about six o’clock in the morning (Pacific Time), I decided that I couldn’t take it any more, so I got my sorry ass out of bed to do my morning walk. The temperature was in the mid to high thirties, which is downright balmy as far as I am concerned.

As such, I put on a pair of shorts, a tee shirt and a nylon windbreaker and headed for the main drag in town to strut my shit. It was quite nice, albeit a tad unusual. I am not used to traffic lights that permit the walker/runner/regular pedestrian to push a button, which will eventually alert drivers to stop (as if they would in Jersey). I am also not accustomed to seeing the triple lines carved into the sidewalk, which presumably tell a blind person that he or she is approaching in intersection. (In Jersey, blind people are fair game).

The walk provided me with a cornucopia of interesting sights, including a large restaurant (which I presume is a chain) called “Sweet Tomatoes” — a buffet restaurant that only serves salads. At the time, I wondered to myself how long it would take for such a restaurant to go out of business in North Newark. But I digress.

So, I was walking along and working on a serious sweat, when the following happened. I swear that this is exactly how it went ……….

As I was walking, a bus going in the same direction stopped and discharged a woman who appeared to be roughly my age, perhaps bit older. Judging by the hour, I assume that she was on her way to work. She was dressed in a long wool coat, and she was wearing a hat, scarf and gloves. I would wear that much clothing for an Arctic expedition, but I figured, Hey, it’s California and then I didn’t think anything more of it as I approached her on the sidewalk.

However, this Nanook-of-the-North woman stood her ground and waited for me to walk past her, at which time she glared at me and angrily said, “What’s the matter with you? How can you wear shorts when the temperature is in the thirties?” This woman was clearly pissed.

My initial thought was, My, that is not a terribly progressive way to behave.

I stopped and said, “I’m from Jersey,” thinking that would explain things.